Cookie For A Thought?
by flipstahhz
Summary: [one-shot] Choc-chip cookies always make him feel better; she always makes him feel better. [sorato]


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[ COOKIE FOR A THOUGHT? ]

by _flipstahhz_

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Yamato was home later than usual.

He had made a pit-stop two stations before his one, popping by to visit his younger brother's apartment. The visit had turned to dinner, which later turned into a few beers, which then made him hop onto a taxi to get home.

Yamato had never been good with words, so when Takeru had offered a beer, he had accepted. His speech - or lecture as Takeru had pointed out - flowed more naturally, shoulders relaxed as he told his brother his thoughts on the crucial matter. Regardless of it all, Yamato's words hadn't worked. He hadn't convinced Takeru.

Disheartened, Yamato hung his coat and changed his leather shoes to his navy slippers. As he ambled further down the hallway, the pleasant smell of freshly baked goods gradually become more pungent.

Sure enough, Sora was baking again.

She wore a red apron, bow tied around her slim waist. Her hair, a lighter red, was tied up in a high bun. A year ago she would have not been able to pull off the look, but this year she had been determined to grow her hair out, opting to not keep her typical shoulder-length cut and actually make her hair grow longer. It was a new look that Yamato had grown fond of.

Sora bent down, using a checked towel to grab the hot tray from the oven. Knees straightening, she stood up and carefully placed the tray on top of the stove.

She finally turned around to face him, eyebrow raised. "You're late."

"I am. Sorry. I did send you a text that I couldn't make it for dinner." Yamato had propped himself up onto a bar stool besides the kitchen bench. His elbow rested on the bench, hand supporting his head as he lazily stared at her.

"It's past dinner time." Sora observed, "You're a bit drunk too."

He couldn't get it passed her. Sora had always been the observant kind. Yamato knew she had seen the light pink splotches on his skin and how his eyelids were heavy. Nowadays alcohol made him more sleepy than energised.

"I was at Takeru's."

Sora frowned. She didn't ask him why he was there. Yamato had a feeling that she already knew why. She turned back to her freshly baked cookies. Grabbing a clean, washed saucer from the dish-rack, she used a spatula to scoop half the cookies up and onto the small ceramic plate.

He watched as she advanced towards him with the plate of piled goods.

Choc-chip. His _favourite_.

If there was anything that his partner specialised in, it was baking choc-chip cookies to perfection.

After all, Yamato had witnessed her hard labour from the beginning.

Sora's first batch of amateur cookies had been horrible, appearing almost burnt to the crisp. Having not wanting to offend Sora's first attempt, Yamato had told her that he had enjoyed the cookies, choosing to leave out that they had - in fact - tasted like charcoal in his mouth. He remembered that she had replied with a laugh. A pretty laugh, saying that he didn't have to lie to her and that she would make him a better batch the next week.

He hadn't been sure if her intentions had been genuine, whether she liked him or whether she wanted to kill him. However, as promised, Sora baked for him every Friday after that. Yamato wasn't completely certain if she liked him _that_ way, but he was certain that he had feelings for Sora. Perhaps he always had, but had never known it. The cookies must have been the deciding factor, his form of enlightenment.

Therefore, when week four of cookie deliveries had come around, Yamato expected Sora at his door. He had waited, anticipated for her. He remembered his heart beating a vivace rhythm in his chest, so fast that he felt nauseated. The tumble of anxiety that radiated inside him had been worse than how he had felt prior to his band playing a live performance. Yamato knew that this time it would be his performance alone - his own confession.

When Sora had finally arrived with her box of cookies, Yamato remembered his mind going blank. How he had stuffed up. How he couldn't utter a single word to her. Instead of confessing, he acted on instinct and kissed her on his doorstep, then and there.

And, ever since, Cookie Friday had been their tradition. Their time.

However, today wasn't Friday. It was in the middle of the week. A Wednesday.

Sora had baked the cookies earlier because it was like she had _known_ he was on edge. He had baked them out of comfort, and Yamato really appreciated her for it.

With her right hand, Sora positioned the plate of cookies in front of him, while resting her left on his back. She turned to him, brown eyes studying his. Yamato let out a sigh when she kissed him on his forehead.

"Cookie for a thought?" She gave him a small smile.

Yamato chuckled. He pulled her onto his lap, returning the kiss by planting one on her cheek. Her arms went around his neck as she kept staring at him.

"It's about Takeru, isn't it? You're worried about him."

"Yeah," Yamato admitted, tiredly.

He couldn't bring himself to scowl at her or to deflect the conversation. If it were Taichi, he would have told him to shut up. However, this was Sora. His partner. His love. And she had baked him cookies. She truly knew the way to a man's heart, the man-killer.

Sora assured him, "He'll be fine, you know?"

Yamato nodded, half agreeing and half disagreeing with her comment.

Leaving one arm around her hip, he used his vacant arm to reach out for the cookie pile. They were still hot to touch, but tolerable, honey in colour and freckled with specs of chocolate.

He took one of the cookies into his hand, perceiving the right amount of softness between his fingertips. Yamato halved it, blowing onto one of the halves and placed it into his mouth. He hummed, savouring the taste as his teeth dug into the cookie. It tasted perfect.

Not too sweet; and not too bland either.

The tension that he had felt all week was beginning to waver. He was beginning to become less tense. Sora leaned closer to him, resting her head onto his chest. She repeated, "He'll be fine."

"Should we move to France?"

"Now you're being silly," Sora laughed. "You can't stalk and baby him forever, Yamato. He's a grown man. Takeru can look after himself. Besides, you know we can't afford to when we've got the wedding coming up..."

"I reckon if I had made it as a rockstar, I'm sure money would never have been an issue for us."

Sora snorted. "And if you had become a celebrity, I don't think we'd still be together."

"Ah, the sacrifices I had to make," Yamato replied, faking a forlorn look on his face. The face didn't last long, as Sora lightly punched him on his side. He sighed, "But Europe's so far. I'm scared Takeru's making the wrong decision. Sometimes he's too spontaneous that he doesn't think before he acts. I tried to talk him out of it-"

"Of course you did." Sora rolled her eyes. "And it didn't work, did it?"

"No. I just can't understand why he can't stay here. There are many jobs and opportunities in Tokyo."

"He wants to be a travel journalist," Sora remarked. "Did you know that _travel_ is actually in his career title? How can he work and write articles about traveling when he's home-based?"

Yamato grumbled, "Onsens. He can write articles about them. We have many of them here in Japan."

"Now you're being ridiculous and stubborn."

He argued back, "Takeru's the stubborn one."

"It must be a family trait- _Yamato!_ "

"Sorry. I didn't mean to _almost_ drop you," Yamato replied, mischief dancing in deep, blue eyes. He could see her battling laughter, despite the frown that played on her face as she glared up at him.

"If you're going to be this cheerful, perhaps you'll sleep properly tonight." Sora said, "You've been tossing and turning in bed for the past few nights. You've been driving me insane."

Yamato smirked, "I have another thought in mind of how we can sleep better - tossing and turning can also be involved too."

"Is that so?" Sora's lips curved upwards.

She wrapped her legs around his toned torso. He laughed into her shoulder. She giggle back in reply, her voice like music to his ears, pretty and bubbly. Holding her up with his two arms, Yamato slid off the chair, striding towards the bedroom.

The choc-chip cookies laid forgotten on the kitchen bench.

They did not sleep that night.

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 **(a/n)** i wanted a break. i wanted to write something light-hearted, so this came about. hope you enjoyed this simple sorato one-shot ;)

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